


Out Of The Frying-Pan, Into The Fire

by HeartOfStars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Attack, Darth Vader's A+ parenting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fainting, Gen, Hurt Luke, Injury, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, Post-ESB, Protective Vader, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21525142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfStars/pseuds/HeartOfStars
Summary: Two weeks after Bespin, Rogue Squadron has just escaped a run-in with the Lyleks of Onderon when an unexpected visitor shows up to claim his son.This is an older one from last February and I finally got the courage to post it. Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Wedge Antilles & Luke Skywalker
Comments: 44
Kudos: 529





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a fic I wrote back in February and got posted on KaelinaLovesLomaris' tumblr account; I'm only now posting my older stuff which is why it's taken this long to get over here. Also, I'm still largely unsure about the direction of this, but that's whatever.

_He can hardly stand with the agony pounding in his right wrist; he can hardly think, but still he must get away. As the wind blows and buffets him, a black-gloved hand is reaching for him. “Join me, Luke. It is your destiny.”_

_He tries to keep inching back, but there is nowhere else to go. “No—no, it’s—not true—“_

_He’d meant for his voice to be defiant, but it only sounds weak. He takes another step back, he can jump if he’s fast enough; but suddenly, he is being pulled closer—it’s the Force, damn the Force—and Vader seizes him with a hand around his bicep. He cries out, but there is no sound; his vocal cords don’t work._

_The monster—his father, no it’s not true—looms ominously over him. “There is no escape. You are my son—you_ belong _to me.”_

With a jolt, Luke returned to consciousness, gasping for breath.

He was on the ground. At first he was confused; then he remembered: the giant, spider-like Lylek had knocked him down, and he had killed it with his blaster. He must have been out long enough to start dreaming...no, no, he couldn’t think about that, Vader was _not_ here. There was no chance—

“Luke!” Wedge was calling his name. “Luke, we have to get outta here! Where are you?”

“Here!” Luke got to his feet and scrambled out of the undergrowth into a clearing. That Lylek had almost killed him; but the monster was definitely dead. He could see it, lying several meters away; it was _huge,_ its tentacles and claws curled up(fortunately, the tentacles had never touched him). Resisting the urge to shudder, fighting off the memory of his nightmares, he joined his Second where he stood by Onderon’s main facility. “Wedge, they’re all dead!”

“That’s not it,” Wedge told him in a low voice. “Look out there.”

Luke followed Wedge’s gaze, and his heart stopped. On the horizon of the jungle planet were several TIE Fighters. Without warning, his heart began to race, he struggled to breathe, and he felt the beginnings of his panic start to return.

“Wedge,” he said carefully, ignoring the memories of Bespin that wanted to come roaring back, “that’s not—it’s not—“

“You know High Command would never’ve sent you on the mission if there were any chance of Vader being here.” Wedge gave him a reassuring smile, and Luke’s fear decreased marginally. “It’s barely been three weeks, Luke. You’re lucky they even sent you at all!”

“Well, wild Lyleks weren’t really what I had in mind,” Luke said, “but at least they’re dead. Come on, we’ve got time before they land, and by the look of it, everyone else has gotten to their ships. Let’s get out of here!”

But before he or Wedge could take a step, they heard the clatter of armor and the click of blasters behind them. Pulling his own blaster, Luke turned around to find himself face to face with at least two dozen Stormtroopers.

“We’ve been trapped,” Wedge said, sounding horrified. “One of the ships must’ve docked behind the facility...”

“Drop your blasters,” the commander ordered them. “Both of you. Now!”

Luke dropped his immediately, but Wedge crossed his arms defiantly, and Luke suddenly realized that there was only way that both of them were going to get off Onderon. And Wedge wasn’t going to like it.

“Wedge,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “do as he says.”

“But—“ Wedge seemed to realize that he was refusing a direct order from his superior. “All right.” With a soft _plup!,_ his blaster fell into the grass beside Luke’s.

Luke felt something wet on his face, and looked up to see the clouds gathering. Well, these weren’t ideal conditions for flying, but he’d experienced worse.

“And put your hands up!”

Slowly, as he and Wedge raised their hands behind their heads, Luke leaned over to whisper: “Get ready to run. The second I move.”

Wedge looked at him in horror. “Luke, no! You’ll—“

“I’ll follow you,” Luke said, “eventually. Don’t worry. Just make sure Artoo—“

The trooper took a step towards them. “Hey! What are you two whispering about?”

“Oh, never mind.” Before the trooper could move, Luke pulled his blaster into his hand with the Force and fired, once at the lead officer, then again at his companion. Chaos ensued. The Stormtroopers shouted in rage, Wedge took off, and Luke took down two more troopers before dropping to the ground and rolled behind the facility.

“Where is he?” A Stormtrooper with a vibroblade in his hand began searching, turning round and round several times before registering that his would-be prisoner had vanished. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Luke might have laughed. “Find him!”

The Force must have been against him. Luke had barely relaxed when, against all odds, at least a half dozen troopers turned and walked toward the facility. They would find him; he had no choice but to run. As another drop fell on his face, he got to his feet, wincing as the cuts on his back and legs pulled, and sprinted out of the shelter of the facility and towards the jungle.

“There he is!”

A warning came from the Force; Luke jerked aside just in time to avoid a blaster bolt, but that simple change in direction sent him stumbling over a large rock that just happened to be _there,_ of all places, and he dropped to the floor of the jungle. There was another warning, and he was almost too slow; he twisted aside, a half second late, and felt a blaster bolt scrape over his right arm. The pain would come later, he thought as he jumped up to run; for now, he could survive on adrenaline, shock, and the Force.

 _Yoda would kill me for thinking of the Force like that,_ he thought with a grin as he dove into the undergrowth and waited, his heart hammering in his chest.

The bushes rustled as the troopers walked past. Several more drops fell. It was raining in earnest now, and Luke tried not to shiver; that, more than anything, would give him away. He could see the tips of their white boots now, as they stopped in front of the place he was hiding...and then, suddenly, they started muttering to one another.

“Better get out of here,” one of them said. There was a rustle of leaves, and gradually Luke felt their presence in the Force vanish as they left him alone.

Well, that was weird.

Slowly, Luke sat up, trying to ignore all the pains that were coming back to him—the cuts on his back, the scratches on his legs and chest, all from the Lylek’s claws, the exhaustion that lingered just beyond his awareness, the pounding in his head from being knocked unconscious, and worst of all the new wound in his arm—and suddenly remembered Wedge. He’d promised him he’d escape! Wedge must be worried sick, and he might come back for Luke...

Luke could _not_ let that happen; who knew where the Stormtroopers were? Seizing his blaster, he jumped to his feet and began running, out into the clearing. There was no sign of the Stormtroopers, but they could be anywhere. As long as he ran fast, he and Wedge could still escape...

Rain immediately pounded down on him, but he didn’t care; he’d be off the planet soon anyway. He shivered. The atmosphere was extremely cold, almost too cold for a jungle planet, but then again it _was_ raining. He approached the facility—

And Darth Vader rounded the corner.

Luke stopped dead in his tracks, panic threatening to catch up to him again, and his mouth fell open. This couldn’t be real—this had to be some kind of hallucination—there had been no chance Vader would be here at all! But here he was, as real as everything else...

Or maybe not, he thought wildly; Vader still hadn’t spoken, maybe Luke _was_ hallucinating—

“Were you escaping?” Vader’s booming voice dashed Luke’s remaining hopes. “How unfortunate for you.”

Besides all Luke’s other injuries, his right wrist now began to throb, almost painfully, as he took several steps back. The rain was making him dizzy; he had to focus on the Force to keep from stumbling. He felt his hands shaking, and clenched them into fists; but then he couldn’t get enough air. He needed to breathe—he couldn’t breathe—he couldn’t move—

Vader took a step closer, and the movement, more than anything else, made Luke’s decision for him. He turned around, ready to run to his ship—though now he could hardly see through the rain, which had thoroughly drenched him—and almost walked into the round end of a blaster.

Oh. So that was where the Stormtroopers had gone.

“Turn around, Rebel,” one of them said; he was the one with the vibroblade, Luke remembered.

Slowly, almost against his will, Luke did so...and then he looked at the ground. Vader seemed to tower over him. He couldn’t look at the man, couldn’t think about Bespin, couldn’t think about what Vader had told him—couldn’t think at all—

“Bring him into the facility,” Vader said at last. “We will take refuge from the storm there until my shuttle arrives.”

In the distance, one lone X-Wing could be seen taking off into the sky. As the Stormtroopers seized his arms, Luke allowed himself to slump into their grip; now he was sure, if he hadn’t been before, that he would not be able to escape the Empire. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part two, and the third and final part is essentially the previous two chapters from Dad Vader's POV.

Vader led them into the entrance of the main facility. It hadn’t been a long walk, but strangely, Luke was having a difficult time staying upright; his legs kept on shaking, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. But although he was glad to be inside, and out of the freezing rain, he dreaded what would happen now that they had stopped walking. Maybe Vader was disappointed in him, for being so weak in their duel, or for refusing the dark side; or, maybe, he had decided to torture Luke until he joined him. At this point, Luke didn’t think that would take much. At the moment, all he wanted to do was lie down, but there were no chairs. 

“Troopers,” Vader said, “leave us.”

The Stormtroopers looked reluctant to follow the order; they all knew who Luke was, then. 

“But, sir—“ One of the troopers spoke up. Luke couldn’t believe his audacity. Did he  _ want  _ to die? “Lord Vader, shouldn’t there be more than one...person...to guard—“

Vader rounded on the trooper sharply. “Do you  _ doubt  _ my capability to handle one prisoner, trooper? Do you think, somehow, that he is too strong for me? That  _ I  _ am not powerful, or skilled, or capable enough?”

“No—no—no, Lord Vader, no. Of course not.” The trooper gestured quickly to the others. “You heard him! Leave!”

Luke’s dizziness was almost unbearable; the noise of the troopers and of the heavy breathing was too loud, there were too many things to look at, Vader’s presence was overbearing, everything was  _ too much.  _ He closed his eyes—

“Luke?”

Shuddering, Luke opened his eyes. Vader’s hand was reaching for him— _ exactly like in the nightmare, exactly like Bespin, no no no— _ and he staggered backward, gasping. “No! Don’t touch—don’t come anywhere near me!”

Vader’s hand dropped back to his side. “As you wish. But you must come with me. Prolonging it will do you no good.”

He said that as if he cared, as if he was  _ concerned  _ with what was good for him, as an actual father might be. But Luke knew that wasn’t true. If Vader really, truly cared about him, he wouldn’t have brutalized him in the duel, or tortured his friends, or cut off his hand. 

Vader took a step closer, and Luke matched the movement with a step back. It was too hard to stand up; Luke reached out with one hand and gripped the counter that fortunately happened to be there. 

“Luke,” Vader said again, though he didn’t come any closer, “I trust that you have...accepted the truth, have you not? That I am your—“

“Stop!” Luke couldn’t hear it again; he couldn’t  _ bear  _ hearing it again. “Just—just leave me alone!” 

There were too many thoughts in his brain, too much noise, everything hurt—but Luke couldn’t show weakness in front of his—in front of—he didn’t understand. How could Vader  _ possibly  _ be his father? He was a monster...he had cut off his hand...had he known? Had Vader  _ known,  _ all along, that he had a son, and only taken interest when he knew Luke had the Force?

“Why?” he whispered at last, taking his hand off the counter. “Why—why did—why did you—“ He couldn’t finish. He tried again. “Did you...did you know?”

There was a long silence. 

“No,” Vader said, “not until...several years ago.”

“Then—why—“ The world spun again. Luke swallowed thickly; the room had suddenly become extremely, impossibly hot. He shifted uncomfortably; he couldn’t speak. His throat was too dry. 

Fortunately, Vader seemed to understand. “I thought that you were dead. I had been... _ told  _ that you were dead. I only learned when Fett told me your name...” He eased a step closer; panic shot up Luke’s spine. Vader’s hand clenched into a fist. “I have pursued you, relentlessly, for the past three years. I have wanted nothing more than to find you.”

Vader took another step closer to Luke. Luke closed his eyes; he couldn’t look, couldn’t do anything. He wanted to move away, to run from his  _ monster  _ of a father’s presence, but he didn’t think he could bring his legs to do that. 

“Well,” he said at last, opening his eyes, “well, if you—if you wanted...to find me...why—would you—“ There was no air in the room, none at all—he gasped and finally managed a shuddering breath. “Why would you cut off my hand?”

“I...”For once, Vader seemed at a loss for words. The silence stretched on. Luke took another difficult breath. “I lost control. I did not...mean to do it.”

He hadn’t meant to? That made no sense. Then again, nothing made sense. The pain in Luke’s head increased until there was a black hole in the center of his vision; Luke pressed his fingers—the fingers of his right hand, no don’t think about that—to his forehead, and it went away. When his vision refocused, he realized that Vader was a lot closer than he’d thought. When had that happened? Did the Sith have the power to create illusions, too? Luke tried to shuffle back a step, but the world was moving so, so slowly, drifting in a haze of colors...

“Son.” Vader’s voice was quiet, yet at the same time seemed to echo throughout the room. Luke wanted to cover his ears. “Are you all right?”

Luke swallowed, several times, and blinked before looking up at the mask; he had to tilt his head back to do so. Was he all right? What was  _ meant  _ by “all right?” He most definitely was not emotionally all right; he hadn’t been emotionally all right for three weeks. And he had no idea how he felt physically; he wasn’t cold anymore—strangely, he was getting hotter by the minute—but he’d been shot, kind of, and he had scrapes from his fight with the Lyleks...oh, Force, the Lyleks. They’d almost killed him, and he hadn’t realized that, and now he realized that that was the closest he’d come to dying since Bespin...exhaustion pounded behind his eyes, and quickly he shut them. 

“Luke?” Vader sounded almost—but that was impossible—panicked. “Answer me.  _ Are you all right?” _

If Vader’s voice had been loud  _ before,  _ it was thunderous now. Luke took several short breaths, trying to get all the air he could before speaking. He needed to sit down.

“Yeah,” he said, finally, opening his eyes; he could hardly look at Vader, but that was due mostly to the fact that his head felt too heavy. He was so tired; every cell in his body ached, and everything was moving fast and slow at the same time, and the air in the room was almost gone. “I’m fine. I just—I think I—“

Darkness. 

Consciousness returned slowly this time, and as the world swayed and spun, Luke gradually became aware of the fact that he was covered in a thick, supple fabric. No, maybe covered wasn’t the right word... _ wrapped  _ was more accurate; and, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t standing, either. Nor was he on the ground. As he struggled to make sense of where he was and what was happening, he realized that someone was holding him, that he was being carried in someone’s arms, his head resting on a padded shoulder; he didn’t know who it was, but he was grateful. He was wrapped in a...blanket...and no one was making him stand or do anything. His wound didn’t even hurt. 

Belatedly, Luke understood that there could be only one person who was carrying him, and he tried to care; but, really, he couldn’t find the strength to do that. He turned his head, tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t do that, either; so he settled for resting his head back against Vader’s chest. Maybe he would care later, he thought; he could try to escape then. But for the moment, he felt very warm, and cared for, and...and safe. Huh. That was a first. 

Slowly, as the world moved in slow motion, he finally opened his eyes; but he couldn’t get them open all the way. The hands holding him shifted, and the black mask tilted down to regard him. 

_ Sleep,  _ something in his mind said, but it wasn’t in his voice. Luke barely had time to think about what that meant before the Force surrounded him, caressing his mind gently; for some reason, he found himself thinking of the way his aunt Beru used to tuck him into bed. Luke’s eyes drifted shut. Almost unconsciously, he found himself turning toward the comforting Force presence of his father. Then he was dizzy again, and before he knew it, his mind had faded into the comforting bliss of sleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader's perspective on the last couple of chapters.

The facility was large, warm, and the ideal place to persuade his son to come with him before he tried running again. Vader stopped in the waiting room, which thankfully was empty, devoid of any personnel. The Stormtroopers took several more seconds to arrive. Luke, he noticed, was walking slowly, his face pale, and he was shivering from the rain. Had he been injured, then? Vader had felt him fall unconscious as the _Executor_ came out of hyperspace; but when he landed, much to his relief, Luke had woken up again. Something must have happened to him before Vader had arrived. The thought of his son being hurt by anything, even the idea of a scrape along his shoulder sent anger roiling through Vader; but the danger was gone now, and the most pressing concern was that Luke accept the truth.

The troopers finally stopped walking, and Luke stood up a little straighter, staring at Vader with fear in his eyes. Unnoticed by any of the others, Luke trembled slightly.

“Troopers,” Vader said evenly, “leave us.”

He could feel their reluctance to follow the order, but none of them protested—none, except for one, who stepped forward slightly. “But, sir—Lord Vader, shouldn’t there be more than one...person...to guard—“

Vader didn’t even let him finish. How dare he suggest that anyone but Vader should guard Luke Skywalker, his son, who he had hunted and searched for and torn the Galaxy apart to find for three years? His rage spiked, and he spun toward the trooper so suddenly that the man took several steps back. “Do you _doubt_ my capability to handle one prisoner, trooper? Do you think, somehow, that he is too strong for me? That _I_ am not powerful, or skilled, or capable enough?”

“No, no, no, no,” the trooper stammered, “Lord Vader, no. Of course not!” Quickly, almost desperately, he gestured to his companions. “You heard him! Leave!”

As the Stormtroopers tramped away, one by one, Vader studied his son again. Luke looked exhausted. His hair and clothing were damp from the rain, his shirt sleeve was torn, there were tiny cuts and scratches across his face, he was swaying a little, and he had closed his eyes as if in deep pain. But was this pain physical, or emotional? Vader could feel both.

He risked taking a step forward, reaching out to steady his son. “Luke?”

Immediately, Luke opened his eyes, and at once he staggered backward with a gasp. “No! Don’t touch—don’t come anywhere near me!”

He sounded...terrified. Disappointed, Vader let his hand drop to his side; but of course, Luke would not want his touch. He should have realized that. “As you wish. But you must come with me. Prolonging it will do you no good.”

Luke trembled noticeably. Concerned, Vader took another step forward...and then Luke matched it with a step back, seizing the counter next to him for balance. Vader waited a moment, giving Luke time to think, and then—

“Luke,” he said, remaining where he was, “you have accepted the truth, have you not? That I am your—“

That was the wrong thing to say.

“Stop!” Luke cried desperately, shrinking back, as if doing so could get him any further from the presence of his father; but it only made him look smaller, more vulnerable. “Just—just leave me alone!”

Vader did so, watching Luke grip the counter harder and struggle to breathe. He was probably in shock; naturally, he hadn’t expected to see Vader so soon after their confrontation on Bespin. _Bespin._ Vader didn’t want to think about it. He had thought he had known what he was doing there, thought he had planned everything perfectly...and then he had lost control, cutting off his son’s hand, which had forced him to tell Luke the revelation _after_ the fact, when he was in physical and emotional shock. And then he had nearly lost him...

But he hadn’t. Luke was here, in front of him, right now. The only objective at the moment was to make Luke accept him, as his father.

“Why?”

The sound that had come out of Luke’s mouth was so small, so pitiful, that Vader barely registered it. _Why?_ Why, what? That was a loaded question, in regard to _him,_ and could be asking so many things...

“Why did—why did you—“ Luke seemed to be gasping for air. He swallowed. “Did you...did you know?”

The rest of the sentence went unfinished. _Did you know that I was your son?_ There was no time stated, but Luke’s shields were nonexistent in his pain, and Vader could hear what he was asking: had Vader known Luke was his son the whole time? The question pulled at Vader’s heart. Of course he would think that; Vader had offered hardly any explanation on Bespin. He thought that Vader only cared about him because he was an adult now, and a powerful Jedi, when the answer could not have been more different. Vader wished to the Force that he had known Luke was his son all along, that he had not missed so much of his life, that Luke had not been indoctrinated by Obi-Wan into believing Vader had killed his father...

But there was no way that Vader could put all of that into words, so he settled for a simple answer. “No. Not until...several years ago.”

“Then—why—“ Luke swallowed.

Again, Vader could hear the rest of the unfinished sentence: _why didn’t you know?_

Oh, that answer was painful, but it needed to be said. Vader clenched his fists, forcing his anger under control. “I thought that you were dead. I had been... _told_ that you were dead. I only learned when Fett told me your name...” Seeing Luke tremble again, Vader took a step closer. “I have pursued you, relentlessly, over the past three years. I have wanted nothing more than to find you.”

Luke seemed to be in pain again. Vader took another step closer to him, and his son closed his eyes. Several seconds passed like this, in which Vader could feel, clearly, his son’s desire not to look at him, to get away from him. It hurt him, but Luke would accept, eventually.

He hoped.

Eventually, Luke opened his eyes. “Well, if you—if you wanted...to find me...why—why would you—“ He took a gasping breath; he needed to _breathe,_ to calm down. “Why would you cut off my hand?”

There. There it was, the question he had been expecting.

“I...” Vader couldn’t answer at first. How did one put the pain, and turmoil, and desperation of almost twenty-three years into words? The answer: one didn’t. He would have to tell him the simple reply; elaboration would come later. “I lost control. I did not...mean to do it.”

As Vader had expected, Luke seemed to have a hard time understanding that. Of course; he thought his father was a monster...maybe he was. But then Luke’s pain and confusion spiked, and Vader took a step closer, and then another step. Luke opened his eyes suddenly, and Vader felt his surprise at finding his father so close to him; but he didn’t appear to be able to move very much, shuffling backward only about a half step. What was _wrong_ with him?

“Son,” Vader said quietly. “Are you all right?”

Luke blinked and looked up, having to tilt his head back due to Vader’s proximity. His eyes were clouded; and for many long seconds—too long—he did nothing but stare.

Vader felt panic seize him. “Luke? Answer me. _Are you all right?_ ”

Luke was shaking again, from head to toe. Vader saw him take several short breaths. “Yeah,” he said, too slowly, almost slurring the word. “I’m fine. I just—I think I—“

Without warning, Luke’s eyes rolled back and he fell forward. Vader was so surprised he almost didn’t move; but thankfully, he had been standing so close to his son that he could simply reach out and catch him as he collapsed. Then, worry building in his every limb, he took Luke in his arms, tilting him back so that he could get a good look at him. He was certainly unconscious—Vader knew that _without_ the Force—and his skin felt clammy. Desperately, Vader pressed his hand to Luke’s neck, testing for a pulse; and although he found it, it was slow and weak.

Most of the first aid materials were on his shuttle; and Vader would have to wait another minute for that. But at the moment he did have several things he could do. First he administered a stim shot, and loosened the collar of Luke’s shirt, in case that was restricting his breathing. Then he searched his son for other wounds. The only glaring one he found was a laceration on his left shoulder where a blaster bolt must have grazed him; that would heal with a bacta patch. There were other scrapes and cuts on Luke’s upper back and arms, a particularly nasty slash that looked like it had come from a wild creature, and a broken rib; and although even the sight of them threatened to send him into a rage, they weren’t life-threatening, and would be healed easily.

Luke was beginning to breathe a little better; there wasn’t much time before he would wake, at least partially. As gently as he could—he couldn’t help himself—Vader reached out a hand to brush Luke’s damp hair back from his face. This...he couldn’t believe it. His son was in front of him, without panic or terror in his face, without a lightsaber in his hand, and he was able to hold him, to touch him like this, _freely._ He looked so peaceful in unconsciousness, like the child Vader should have been allowed to raise and touch...Vader clenched his hands into fists at that particular thought.

Luke muttered something nonsensical, and Vader turned his attention back to his son. As a smile stretched his ravaged cheeks, he dared to touch Luke’s face, at first only brushing the smooth forehead and eyelids with a finger, then gripping his chin with utmost gentleness, turning it this way and that so that he could take in every detail of it, commit it to memory. The nose, slightly upturned, was Padmé’s; but the hair was his, and the eyes—although they were shut—and the small cleft in his chin. Of course, he had Padmé’s small build, and her stubbornness...or was that _his_ stubbornness? Maybe that was a trait they all shared.

Luke muttered something and shivered slightly.

Vader took another moment to study his son before switching his grip to the left hand so that Luke was held against his chest, while he reached around with his right hand and unhooked the cape from around his shoulders. Carefully, he wrapped Luke in it—the cape was large enough that it enfolded him like a child—and then Vader switched his grip again, bending slightly to lift his son in his arms with his hands under Luke’s shoulders and knees. An old voice whispered in the back of his mind— _and now hold the baby carefully, Ani, not too tight, make sure you support his head—_ and he balanced Luke’s head in the crook of his arm and started walking.

No sooner had he done this than Luke stirred in his arms, slowly returning to consciousness; and Vader looked down just as Luke opened his eyes. _My eyes._ However, he didn’t seem to be able to keep them open very easily; he kept blinking, as if trying to stay awake. Vader felt the brief stirrings of amusement; even in the midst of pain, Luke did not want to sleep. But he would need to, in order to regain his strength; and now that Vader knew Luke would recover from his wounds, it would be all right for him to rest.

 _Sleep,_ Vader spoke to Luke over their bond, caressing his mind with the Force; and strangely, that seemed to work. Luke relaxed. Several seconds later, his eyes drifted shut, but not before his Force presence turned, almost unconsciously, toward Vader’s; and then, quietly, indeed so quiet that Vader hardly heard it, a single word fell from Luke's lips.

_"Father."_

Vader’s heart swelled, filled with emotions he hadn’t dared to feel for almost twenty-three years. His son was with him, at long last, and had at least begun to accept him. 

This was, without a doubt, the happiest moment of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> I was rereading "The Hobbit" at that time, which is where the title comes from.


End file.
